


aut neca aut necare

by chiraptophobia



Category: Avengers: Infinity War (2018), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (reader is the protagonist), F/M, Growing Up Together, Heavy Angst?, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, Reader has superpowers, Requited Unrequited Love, Smol Reader, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, and remember that the protagonist isn't always good, basically unrequited love ok?, heavy angst., high school setting, kinda witchy, mature(ish?) peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-07-24 08:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiraptophobia/pseuds/chiraptophobia
Summary: An accident, a pretty girl, a protagonist freak, a group of friends (but not for long), a homemade suit, a convoluted plot, a dumbass crush, an origin story.Junior year.Queens, New York.





	1. A Prologue/Origin Story or Some Shit

You were too tired to brush your hair properly.

 

_“Get out! Everyone out now!”_

_Some people screamed, some were too out of breath to even speak. Smoke filled your lungs and choked you out. Most of the group was there, all in one place. You noticed that the short woman who had been guiding the tour was nowhere to be seen. Security guards were herding everyone in some direction, yelling in panicked voices for there to be calm. It was ironic in a sinister, twisted kind of way._

 

Clothes were thrown on haphazardly. You didn’t care if they didn’t match. Most things in your closet were dark colors anyway, which made you smile a bit; that sounded so emo.

 

_MJ was also gone. Ned and Peter were already outside. You prayed that MJ was outside with them, but she couldn’t have passed you without you knowing, even with this thick smoke. And on the inside, tattooed into your brain was the need to go back and help her. Hell, even help the short lady, although MJ was priority. With your lungs making suspicious rattling noises and your eyes stinging, you turned back and trudged into the smoke._

 

Looking back on it, you were surprised at how useless New York’s police and fire department were. One lady in blue uniform had been sipping coffee leisurely with one hand and throwing blankets at survivors with the other. Peter said she’d thrown one at his face.

 

_A guard yelled for you to come back, but his screaming was quickly drowned out by the creaking of support pillars. You were very dimly worried that the floors of Stark Labs would collapse. The security guard made no attempt to go after you, which was fine. When the smoke was too black to see through you stretched out your arms and felt your way through the fifth corridor. You couldn’t see a foot in front of you, yet you still kept walking, the only light being a fire from one of the smaller physical chemistry labs._

_“MJ!”_

_You heard distant cries for help._

_“MJ? MICHELLE!”_

_The cries became shrieks, and you knew that it wasn’t MJ. You tripped over an overturned decorative plant and landed on your hands and knees right next to a woman who definitely wasn’t MJ. Another fire was spreading from a connecting hallway, providing just enough light for you to see the ceiling that was about to cave in. The lady (a short lady, by the way) was propped up on her elbows, her head turned up to the sky and her eyes squeezed shut to avoid looking at the plumbing pipe lodged into her stomach._

_“Don’t help me.”_

_You rubbed your itchy eyes as she lowered her head to look at you. She was slipping away._

_“I saw a…”_

_The lady tried to take a ragged breath but only inhaled more smoke. “A g-girl, down this hall. She isn’t hurt.”_

_You looked down helplessly at her, laying there, waiting for death. She frowned and you wondered if frowning took all her remaining strength, because she sunk down on the floor and let the pipe impale her further. Dark red liquid seeped out of the wound. You looked away quickly and bit your clenched fist to keep from releasing a horrified yelp. A step away from the dead lady, and another, and another and you were looking into each lab as you passes them until finally-_

 

A picture of you, Ned and Peter was taped to your bedroom wall, taunting you. Michelle was in the background, photobombing and flashing her middle finger.

 

_MJ was slumped against a cabinet in lab 50, her chest rising and falling in a steady pace. You wanted badly to release a sigh, but the smoke was already filling your chest like an overblown balloon and it hurt. As promised, she wasn’t hurt. Your head was becoming fuzzy, slowly being worn away by exhaustion, heat and smoke. Fighting off a migraine, you hooked your arms under MJ’s armpits and began to drag her away._

 

You double and triple checked your backpack, just in case anything was missing. And, after eating a quick breakfast, you checked once again.

 

_You were almost to the big glass doors, almost outside. Most of the cops were handling the injured, reassuring them that an ambulance was coming. None of them looked back to see two girls, one unconscious and one barely walking. For two seconds, you were hopeful. MJ would be safe. Both of you would make it out._

_“Spiderman’s gonna help us,” you murmured, feeling your head grow light. “He’s gon’- he’ll help us-”_

 

Mum was already at work. She didn’t leave a note. She hadn’t bothered to leave one in six years. You tried not to care much about her, or what she thought of you, or what she did. Again, how fucking emo-

 

_The lobby’s glass chandelier jangled and you watched it fall, taking a chunk of the ceiling with it. More deep rumbles came from above you. In slow motion the exposed ceiling framework collapsed._

_“No!”_

_You threw MJ as far forward as you could as two support beams fell and embedded themselves in the marble floor, taking with them the rest of the drywall and plaster. You stumbled to the wall of rubble that blocked your path. From peeking through a small hole, you saw MJ’s body being carried by firefighters to a stretcher, and two more firemen rushing towards you to break through the rubble. Ash and drywall floated around, burning your irritated eyes. They teared up involuntarily from the stinging and nothing else._

 

The PTSD wasn’t bad enough to be diagnosed, is what you told yourself. For hours at night you’d lie awake, repeating some stupid inspirational quote you’d found on Instagram. The same quotes that were so overwhelmingly positive they made you cringe. But after muttering the same thing for ten minutes. Alone. In your room. With the lights turned off… It sounded more like the babbling of a crazy person. Anyway, you refused to believe that you were mentally or physically unstable. Although…

 

_Your head felt light and your eyelids were heavy. The smoke was not gray anymore, but a dark, dark blue. It swirled around you, invaded your nose and ears and eyes, curled around your fingers, seeping into your skin. Your fingertips were tingly, as were your palms. It was hard to stay awake. Maybe this was death. Hot, uncomfortable and sweaty death. MJ was safe though. Firemen shouted commands at each other, police sirens were jabbing your brain like sharpened daggers. Sleeping would be a peaceful relief right about now. And your body was so sore…_

 

Physically unstable had a whole new meaning now.

 

_You woke up only semi-conscious and felt the hospital bed you were lying in being rolled frantically, doctors and nurse scrambling to get you to breathe._

 

Flexing your fingers, the navy blue smoke coiled around them, moving like a young viper. It was there since the accident. Only recently had you found out you could control it, even slightly. The energy appeared at the most inappropriate times, which was great. If you’d gotten an A and were happy? The air around you seemed to emit waves of _something_. Something that you couldn't explain. If someone pushed you in the hallway? If you were angry or sad? Dark blue smoke would cover your hands, and the slightest flick of a finger would shatter something in the room.

 

_The next time you opened your eyes, it was in full consciousness. The blinding hospital light made your pupils constrict, adjusting to the brightness. The heart monitor’s beat increased when your friends were finally let in. Peter, Ned and MJ burst into the room and wouldn’t let go of you for another ten minutes. This was the first time you saw Michelle cry._

 

Nobody knew about the smoke. Not MJ, not Ned and not even Peter. These powers weren’t a some small secret that could be playfully whispered into someone’s ear. They weren’t a school rumor. They scared you. Kept you up at night. Made you wake up to nightmares that showed you just how strong you could become.

 

_A girl entered your ward right after you were served dinner. You recognized her as Kimberly  from Midtown and expected some sort of congratulations. But she was deathly pale and livid._

_“You didn’t save her.”_

_The moment she spoke, you remembered the short woman who died. You set aside your cheap pudding and stared at her._

_“Why didn’t you save my mother?” she yelled, clenching her fists._

_You were quiet for some time as she stood, waiting for an answer. Her mother. She had every right to be angry because that woman had been her mother. And then… “She told me keep moving.”_

_Your voice was barely a whisper. “I had to save MJ. I’m sorry, but I had to-”_

_“I don’t give a FUCK about Michelle!” she yelled, her face steadily turning red. “She should have died! My mom was twice the person Michelle is!”_

_“I’m sorry,” you said loudly, the heart monitor speeding up. Your chest was tight with guilt and anguish and panic. “If I could have saved her I would have!”_

_“Why didn’t you die?” Kimberly screamed, stomping closer and towering over your bed. Your heart monitor was beeping erratically. “YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED, NOT MY MOM!”_

_“G-get away from me-”_

_Doctors streamed into the room as soon as they heard yelling, grabbing her and “escorting” her out of the building. But even the highly trained doctors couldn’t stop your panic attack._

 

Now, all you could think of was seeing her again at Midtown. What her many friends would say, think and do to you. But you did! You did try to save that woman! They couldn’t blame you for trying to save your friend first!

 

_Tony Stark himself came in later that day, offering you an internship at Stark Labs. For some stupid, fucked up reason, you accepted. Even though it was his company’s fault this happened to you. It didn’t help that you sensed the internship wasn’t the only reason he was with you._

_“We ran a few tests while you were out,” he said after two minutes of awkward silence. “I know you’re hiding your powers, kid. Your body is...more durable...than before. A nurse came in while you were out and said things were floating across the room. What do think about that?”_

_“I think I’m going crazy,” you answered meekly. He didn’t need to know that everywhere you looked, you saw that dead woman’s body. She would lie in the hospital’s cafeteria, in the hallways and the bathrooms, her body starting to decompose. “W-what do you think Mr. Stark?”_

_“Not anything you need to know yet, but I’m sure we’ll keep in touch.”_

_You also saw Kimberly at the hospital, but she was real. She snuck in and wandered around, taking magazines and buying food from the vending machine. And she’d stare you down whenever she got the chance. The doctors assumed Kimberly was only a sad girl visiting a sick relative, and they didn’t remember how they escorted her out of the building a week ago. They never kicked her out, so she stayed. And stayed._

 

The navy smoke got darker and more violent as your mood worsened, becoming like mini cumulonimbus clouds in the palms of your hands. Not that you could control the weather or anything cool like that; this was just smoke, useless smoke.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally published this to tumblr (thecreativeangel), so this is a slightly edited version of that.


	2. You Are My Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the convoluted plot, the start to their falling out.

* * *

 

Kimberly wasn’t the only looming threat to you anymore. _I mean, she’s up there,_ you thought. _She’s like in the top five. Maybe three._ Your fingers tingled with energy all the time now, as if any movement too sudden would trigger a chain reaction. It already happened a few times; you would let go and something in the room would fly into a wall and shatter. That was only at your apartment thought; your mother was yet to see these new abilities, thank god. So far, you’d gotten through most of school without an accident. It didn’t help that Kimberly was in half your classes, eyes boring into the back of your head.

“You okay?” Peter asked softly, poking your arm. Your head snapped at the sound of his voice, another thing you hadn’t learned to control: the odd but pleasant fluttering in your chest when he spoke. A feeling that, by the way, someone shouldn’t be having for her best friend. Despite your face heating up, you convinced yourself it was nothing. _Maybe I’m getting sick. Mum_ did _forget to stop by the drug store. She probably didn't go on purpose, just ‘cause we had that fight..._

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“Cool, cool,” Peter mumbled, somewhat awkward. He glanced sideways at you from his book. “You can talk to me, y’know? The whole lab accident made you, uh, quiet.”

“I’m fine Peter.”

“I know,” he defended, earning a glare from the librarian. “I’m only reminding you that we’ve been best friends for six-”

“Seven.”

“Seven years now,” he finished, closing his book. “If you don’t tell me all your secrets then I’m- I’m just plain _hurt_ , (YN).”

He feigned pain and you flicked his cheek, chuckling under your breath. “Okay you cocky asshole, I got it. Nothing’s wrong, ‘m fine.”

You felt Kimberly’s eyes on you once again, even without looking back. They felt like lasers on the back of your head, slowly burying into your skull. The bell rang and you hopped up, grabbing your pre-packed backpack and tapping your foot as Peter got his.

“See you tomorrow Peter!”

You burst through the school’s back door, already excited for later tonight. Sure, your “super-suit” was handmade and obviously stitched together, but it let you wander the streets of Queens at night without being detected.

 

* * *

 

 

“Spidey!” you shouted joyfully, dangling your legs over the side of the building. The Bug Boy landed beside you gracefully, probably showing off his skill. He was already a two years into being Spiderman, and had figured out all the possible secrets in his new suit.

“Hey,” Spidey said, trying and failing to casually lean against some support railing. His elbow slipped and he stumbled, managing to catch himself before a faceplant. You laughed loudly, slightly muffled by your mask. Spidey’s mechanical eyes widened with embarrassment, making you laugh even harder. The only non-perfected part of his suit were the eyes; they were comical and expressive, hardly fitting his new “darker, more mature” look.

“Are you sure you’re a trained super?” you asked as he plopped down beside you.

“Pshh! Shut up.”

He was pouting playfully under his mask, you can tell. “Aren’t you gonna teach me something today?”

“Oh yeah! Right. How’s your flying?”

You turned away to look at the skyline, the sun barely peeking from behind skyscrapers. Of course the smokestacks in the distance were less than ideal, but they, along with the smog they created, were a black outline against a fiery sunset. You could feel Spidey’s lenses focus on you, and you wondered why he bothered to look at you when the sky was this beautiful. “I...haven’t really tried it since last time?”

“Wh- Sunshine, you said you’d practice!”

You lifted the bottom of your mask and stuck out your tongue. “Don’t call me sunshine!”

“Alright Sunshine. Wanna go practice?”

“Oh _fuck_ you.”

Spiderman giggled, already standing on the ledge. “How very hurtful. C’mon, show me your progress.”

You looked down over the ledge, the dumpster at the bottom looking more and more disgusting by the second. 

"If I die, I'm coming back and haunting you 'till _you_ die." Spidey gave you a thumbs up in response.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed yourself off the ledge. Time slowed down as you fell, the wind rushing through your open fingers. Your eyes watered, but you kept going. Spiderman sat anxiously at the top of the building, waiting to swing down and catch you when you screamed the codeword for stop. Despite the wind pushing against your chest, you managed to breathe in and concentrate as the asphalt grew closer and closer. You were less than two stories away from the ground and then-

Your body dissolved into dark blue smoke. Spidey whooped once and threw himself off the ledge, swinging after you. You traveled in a sort of billowing smoke, not really a cloud but not mist. The smoke flew low over the ground, out of the alley and onto a road and- Headlights emerged out of nowhere. You veered up to avoid a truck, momentarily transforming back to human form mid-air, two stories over the bustling road. You began to drop, flailing your limbs like a trapped bug, trying to get back into smoke form.

“ _Spidey!_ ” you screamed, preparing to be flattened by the ground and then run over by a car. A web stuck to your back, yanking you up like a bungee jumper. One arm hooked around your waist and pulled you to a nearby fire escape.

“You okay?” Spidey asked frantically, patting you down for wounds. You wrinkled your nose inside your mask, still breathing heavily from the fall. Sometimes Spiderman sounded suspiciously like he wasn’t from Manhattan. The way he said things, his funny accent, the little stutter he had all reminded you of a Queens resident. _Maybe_ the Bronx. But Spidey obviously wanted his identity a secret, and you did yours.

“Perfect,” you wheezed out. “A bih-bit winded.”

“That was great though!” he exclaimed. “You were flying! It doesn’t obey _any_ laws of science but that is the coolest shit I’ve ever seen!”

You clung to the railing of the fire escape, red paint chips sticking to your sweaty palms. “I looked like a Death Eater back there!”

One of Spidey’s eyes got wider while the other squinted, meaning he was raising an eyebrow at you. Cheeky shit. “You looked like a blue cloud.”

“Oi! Don’t ruin my fun.”

The truck you almost ran into was backing up into oncoming traffic, having driven out of its lane to avoid hitting you. The driver, along with people from several other cars, were cursing loudly at each other, almost completely forgetting the weird girl who fell from the sky. _Ah, New York. What a magical place._ You were about to suggest another go when several black vans drove past the building, all of them following a sleek sports car. Spiderman and you shared a look and nodded. You were about to jump from the fire escape when he put an arm forward to stop you.

“Maybe I should carry you,” he suggested, smirking playfully under his mask.

“I can’t have you carry me every time Spidey!” you whined. He slipped an arm around your waist again.

“Only until you get a hold of your powers Sunshine,” he said with an air of snide humor, already swinging off the fire escape and onto the streets. He swung after the vans, the streets becoming narrower and dirtier as they sped into the beachy area of Brooklyn. You realized before him that the vans were heading towards the docks, and that they were probably carrying some sort of cargo.  

“Hey,” you whisper-yelled. “Let me down.”

Spiderman landed on a storage container and let you down, both of you crouching down to see men in dark clothing get out of the vans. They opened the back of their vans, beginning to unload crates and odd shapes wrapped in sheets.

“What d’you think they’re handling?” Spidey whispered, his eyes glued to the men. You shrugged one shoulder, watching them walk with the heavy objects across the dock and to a good container boat.

“You dealt with somethin’ like this before, right?” you whispered back. “With that Adrian Toomes guy? Looks like they’re doing the same thing.”

“ _God._ Hopefully not.”

The built-in phone inside his suit rang, and Spiderman mumbled a sorry to you before accepting the call _with a simple voice command_ , which was incredibly cool. You heard the distant chatter of a woman. Spiderman nodded a couple times and ended the call.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized, aiming his wrist at the storage container the two of your were hiding on.  “Gotta go. I- I’ll stick a tracker on this thing so we don’t get lost t’morrow.”

“No, I’ll do that,” you said. “D’you have the more easily tracked devices Tony Stark gave you?”

“You- shouldn’t have that…” he said uncertainly.

“I’m not going to die if you give me on of your gadgets, Spidey. Cough it up.”

“What do you need it for?” he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I’m going to stay back and set it up on this container,” you lied easily, not having to think twice. “It takes time, right? Not as simple as your old trackers.”

He typed something into his wrist and a little mechanical spider hopped onto your hand, crawling around in small circles. “Alright… Be careful. Don’t hurt yourself! Don’t die!”

You rolled your eyes. “ _Bye_ Spandex.”

He jokingly flipped you off and climbed off the container, silently swinging back to the city. You poked the little spider in your hand, watching it scurry around, waiting for directions. “C’mon little guy. Let’s get you in position.”

You double tapped the spider’s abdomen and it froze, a little holographic projection being played from its eight eyes. Ducking down lower, you began to type out directions to the reactive machine, selecting the camera, GPS and heat/chemical sensitivity options. You double tapped the bug again and it sprung back to life, jumping off your palm and running to the men unloading cargo. Sliding a finger over the silver cuff on your wrist, you were able to see a hologram from the spider’s point of view, as well as several maps and body temperature signals.

“Perfect,” you whispered gleefully as the spider crawled up a man’s pant leg. A piece of loose rusted metal skidded away when your foot hit it, creating a loud metal ‘ _clunk_ ’.

“Who’s out there?” One of the men called out, walking closer to your container. He carried a gun in hand, his finger pressuring the trigger. You tried to crawl off the back of the container but the man scaled it in an instant, noticing you as you jumped onto another stack of crates.

“Someone’s been watching!” was all you needed to know before you started to sprint, leaping from crate to shipping container to, finally, the ground. The man from before fired a shot at the ground, narrowly missing your feet. _Come on!_ You urged yourself. _Now would be a great time for me not to fail at smoke form!_ You dodged another shot which hit an old boxcar train only inches away. For a few seconds your fear was replaced by anger; these men were firing _bullets_ at a _kid_. Then of course, you remembered that your suit masked everything, including your age. You felt your body become light as it took smoke form, flying higher into the city.

The men shouted threats into the night sky, and a single camera flash went off before you disappeared behind an office building.

* * *

 


	3. Breezeblocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spiderman doesn't like being lied to, apparently.

* * *

 

You didn’t visit Stark Labs again to start the internship; you were a junior now, and the homework was pilling up. Peter, Ned and you spent so many hours studying that you didn’t remember just hanging out with them like normal teenagers. You spoke to them in your “homework voice”, a dreary drone, often hoarse from lack of sleep. It was only mid-year and you felt like giving up.

“If this goes on I’m going to quit and become a stripper,” you finished grimly as Spidey tinkered with his web shooters. You were laying on the edge of a building like it was a bench at the park, one leg dangling over the side. “My mum’s already disappointed enough- And that’s with _straight A’s!"_

“I get you,” he mumbled. “My school’s in advanced academics, yeah? An’ A.C.T.’s are coming up, so there’s college to think about… I’m not going to survive the year.”

You faced away from him, tapping the silver cuff on your wrist to display a holographic map of the Bronx and Queens. A little moving dot was blinking up at you, projecting a new address every time it crossed into another county. It was teasing you.

“You tracked the van?” Spiderman exclaimed. You slapped your hand over the cuff to cut off the projection, finally sensing him looking over your shoulder. Scratching the back of your head, you avoiding looking at him. Guilt. This was what guilt felt like. _But getting caught is pretty bad too..._

“No?”

“I can’t- You- I shouldn’t have given it to you,” Spidey said in one breath. “You said you’d put it on the storage container!”

“That’s _useless_ ,” you retorted, stepping closer. Admittedly, Spidey’s new suit was more intimidating, something you refused to show him. You didn’t step down. “Why the hell would we track something that sits at the dock and doesn’t move! I tapped some guy, no big deal-”

“You should’ve tracked the _container_ and set up motion detectors, and _not_ risked being shot,” he fired back. “Bad guys always come back to the scene of the crime! We could’ve caught them with more cargo!”

“ _Not_ a guarantee.”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you,” Spiderman said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“From what I’ve gathered, you’re a kid in highschool,” you said cooly. “Just. Like. Me. Anyway, I know where they are now and it’s useful, so… I win!”

Spiderman crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows, refusing to let you win. “Aww, c’mon Spandex,” you teased slyly, poking his arm repeatedly. “You know I’m right. Say it. Say I’m right.”

“Just don’t get shot,” he said stubbornly. “I’m not going to have my friend die.”

“Deal,” you said nonchalantly, although his words shocked you. _His friend?_ _I’m Spiderman’s friend?_  “They’re in Queens now. We can catch them while they’re driving.”

Spidey offered you his hand, implying that he would carry you there. “No. I’ll fly myself.”

“You sure?”

“Sort of... Catch me if I fall, will you?”

Your body dissolved into smoke as he swung off the rooftop, flying in front of him. On que, two black vans sped by, the exact same license plates from before. Your smoke turned sharply after them with Spidey trailing behind you. A few times you transformed back into human form while flying, but always changed back. It became fun to scare Spidey like that.

Your smoke hovered over the pavement and you dropped down as a human again. Spidey landed silently beside you, both of you inching towards the black vans. Like last time, men got out and began to unload oddly shaped objects. As you hid behind some crates, you noted that they were being very careful not to touch their cargo. Three figures got out of the front of a van, all of them arguing in hushed tones.

“Scan them!” you whispered to Spidey.

“I can’t,” he grit out, his suit’s eyes adjusting over and over again like camera lenses. He eventually groaned. “They’re too far away.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. The three figures weren’t unloading anything, so they couldn’t be just workers. One was taller, the other two about the same height. _6’0 maybe?_ You thought. _Then those two are like 5’7._ A henchman carrying a particularly big object cursed loudly as it slipped from his hands. It randomly shot a beam of blue light at some boxes. They disintegrated in the blink of an eye. You inhaled sharply, turning around to Spidey.

“That’s n-not human,” you said shakily.

“It could be,” Spiderman sounded like he was trying to convince himself. His hands gripped the edge of a crate until it bent and cracked.

“...told you… Never drop it again!” You heard a female voice shriek, although you could only hear parts of what was said. The man who dropped the weapon shrunk back, even though he seemed taller than her. _She has power over them._

A figure stepped out of the shadows as the mess was cleaned. You squinted in the dark, watching an impossibly tall person step out of a particularly dark patch as if they just materialized out of thin air. To your and Spidey’s surprise, the three people who seemed to have been in charge bowed before the newcomer.

“That isn’t human,” you repeated solemnly, your eyes boring into Spiderman. The tall figure was talking now, apparently, and the three humans were listening carefully. When Spidey didn’t move, you assumed smoke form and slowly slithered closer, gliding inches over the pavement. The night hid your navy smoke. _Please don’t change back into a human now,_ You pleaded. _Don’t let them see me._

Spiderman jolted when he realized you were no longer next to him, searching and finding you crouched behind one of the vans. His eyes widened and he cursed under his breath just as your ears perked up, listening to the four dark figures talk.

“We need the next paycheck, sir,” a deep male voice said. Respectful and hesitant.

“You shall get it when you need it,” you frowned at that voice. It was powerful. So forceful, in fact, that you felt the urge to cower. “For now, Thanos demands his artillery is supplied for.”

“Yes sir,” the female voice said. “But the money-”

“Will be sent, I assure you.”

You stuck your head out just a bit from the side of the van, seeing the regal figure practically glide back into the shadows. That couldn’t be human. You felt waves of power flowing from that creature. Not metaphorically, no. Actual, physical shockwaves of dark magic. It could _not_ be human. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the three people begin to turn around. Before you could hide behind the van again the female flicked her hair, drawing your attention.

Long, sleek, straight black locks were barely hidden behind a dark grey hoodie. She wore semi-opaque glasses that reflected green under the moon’s glow. You darted behind the van, releasing a tiny squeak in the process. Tiny noise, huge mistake. Three guns all cocked at the same time and you could tell without looking that they were all pointed in your general direction, at the van. From where he was hiding, Peter gasped softly. You heard footsteps coming closer to you. Smoke form was an option, but they would still see a billow of blue smoke fly by; they’d definitely know something was going on. Running wasn’t an option either. You counted down the seconds before they would find you and…

Spiderman threw a web grenade at one of the vans. All heads turned towards the small explosion. You sprinted towards the crates, knowing that within seconds all guns would once again be pointed at you. You were almost to Spidey, almost to safety-

When you looked over your shoulder, and met eyes with the female under the hood. Her hair, her stance and voice. And at the same time as you, her face twisted with disgusted recognition. Kimberly’s finger pressed down on the gun’s trigger, firing a single bullet at you. Lunging forward to avoid it, you went into smoke form, flying past the crates and Spiderman. Like last time, henchmen shouted and loaded their guns. Spidey narrowly escaped when a jet of blue light hit a barrel and exploded into dust. You urged the smoke to carry you faster, speeding through the night sky and not stopping until your adrenaline wore off.

You landed clumsily on a small skyscraper, panting because no matter how hard you tried, no oxygen entered you lungs. Kimberly’s burning rage was forced into your mind, and how she tried to _kill_ you.

“Sunshine- Sunshine’re you alright?”

You whipped around to Spidey, shakily getting off your knees. “I know her.”

“What?” Spiderman asked. “Who? The woman who tried to shoot you?”

“Not a woman, she’s my age. Her name’s...Kimberly,” you said quietly, chest still rising and falling rapidly.

“K-Kimberly?” Spiderman stuttered.

Your mind spewed the first random lie it could. “Her last name is Grant. We volunteered together at the Natural History Museum last summer.”

“She’s not an adult?” Spidey cried. “Wha- How old are _you_ then?”

“Eleventh grade,” you said flatly. “How do you know her anyway? Seems like you recognized the name.”

“I d-don’t,” Spiderman stuttered. “My friend goes to her school, he tells me everything. So you’re sure it was Kimberly?”

“ _Yes_ ,” you said fiercely. The only thing stopping you from finding out Spiderman’s identity was his voice modifier. Same went for you. “I have great eyesight, thank you very much. Now what the hell do we do about the goddamn alien that they were supplying with weapons.”

Spiderman wrung his hands nervously, pacing back and forth. “I tell Mr. Stark and we leave it alone for now. Maybe keep tracking them, I don’t know. We can’t pull another sneak attack.”

You stuffed a lock of hair back under your mask and recalled the recognition on Kimberly’s face. _How did she- Oh._ You grimaced. _Her glasses weren’t just prescription, obviously. They were pattern recognition scanners, for god’s sake. Damn it. Didn’t help that she saw some of my fucking hair._

“Let’s turn them in now,” you suggested. “I’ll capture Kimberly, beat her up and the other guys will try to get her back. She seemed to be some sorta boss to them.”

“No. That’s a terrible plan,” Spidey said, finally stopping his pacing. “We aren’t holding her hostage.”

“Then let me-”

“We aren’t hurting her,” Spidey snapped. You stepped back, eyeing him suspiciously. Spiderman told you bits of what happened the last time he got involved in a real crime. It didn’t seem like he chose to rely on authority then. For a second, you felt a pang of sadness in your chest, even though you didn’t know why. It was gone as soon as it came.

“Or anyone else,” Spiderman quickly added.

“Fine,” you lied again. A day ago was the first time you lied to Spidey, and now you couldn’t stop. _It’s not a big deal,_ You told yourself. _Not my fault we have different ways of dealing with crime._

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I fucked up and posted the wrong chapter instead of this one. Just fixed it now. Whoops.


	4. Do I Wanna Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s- Peter’s not-” You held the phone away from you and huffed. It seemed physically painful to say “he doesn’t like me”, but it was better to reject yourself before Peter got the chance. The group picture of him, you and Ned was sitting on your bed stand, collecting dust but ever present. You looked away from it. “Peter isn’t with Kimberly…to study. Just putting that out there. And I don’t like him like that, really.”

* * *

“ _Newest Queens vigilante “Nyx” seen alongside Spiderman on a midnight prowl of the city._ ” You read aloud at lunch, Peter and Ned listening closely. Michelle might have been listening in too, but she didn’t show it. “ _Nyx, seemingly an apprentice of sorts to Spiderman, was captured on camera by teens near the docks of Brooklyn._ _The teens provided little comment, except that they were uneasy with her presence.”_

You threw the newspaper down, trying to hide the scowl that was forming on your face. That had been the latest article of many, all of them more condescending than the next. Compared to other papers this one was tame. _And “Nyx”? Seriously? Like the MAKEUP BRAND?_

“What do you think about it Peter?” Ned asked, staring at his friend with a suspicious level of curiosity. Peter only shrugged, nudging Ned with his elbow.

“She’s probably a nice person,” he said, picking up an apple slice. “I haven’t seen her around Queens yet.”

“Fuckin’ nosy ass paps,” you grumbled quietly. “ _‘They felt uneasy around her’_? What a bunch of bull.”

“What’d you say (Name)?” Ned asked, leaning closer to you.

“Nothing,” you said lightly, smiling at him. “Just talking to myself.”

“It’s a weird name to call her, don’t you think?” Michelle said loudly from her end of the table. “‘Nyx’. Not really a superhero name.”

“I think it’s ‘cause she only comes out at night,” Ned answered, toying with the straw in his milk. “And she only wears black.”

“Nah, she wears dark blue and silver too,” Peter said passively. Michelle, Ned and you all turned to look at him with varying degrees of confusion.

“I saw some other pictures,” he explained quickly, sending you a sheepish smile (you had looked the most confused). “It’s a nice suit. She seems very cool.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “She only comes out at night.”

“Like a bat,” Ned commented.

“Like Batman,” Peter offered.

“Like someone who wants to blend in,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “ _Not_ like Batman.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but closed it immediately. He looked behind you, watching someone pass by. Without looking you could tell it was Kimberly. No matter how hard he tried to hide it from his friends, Peter’s eyes got a bit brighter when she was near. You’d memorized that change without meaning to, even though you didn’t like it.

“I need to go get some water,” was Peter’s brilliant excuse to talk to her. You waved your hand dismissively, flipping through the news article lazily. It’s not like you told Peter that Kimberly hated you because you failed to save her mother. Telling him must have slipped from your mind. And it’s not like guilt ate away at your insides every day because of that failure. It’s not like that at all.

“Hey Kimberly…”

You listened into their conversation, somewhat irked, your eyes still trained on the article. Kimberly’s pleasant voice faded in and out of your hearing range. You heard her giggle, saying something back to him. Listening to them talk like normal people was torture. You focused back on your newspaper. ‘ _Several more reports came in from a family that claimed Nyx robbed last Saturday as they came back from a concert.’_ You scoffed and noisily sipped apple juice through a straw. ‘ _The family also chose to remain anonymous.’ Ha! Turn on your location assholes, I just wanna talk._ Peter sat down again, looking happier and more thoughtful than before.

“Well what happened?” MJ asked, still glued to her book. “Did you make out or what?”

“No! No-” Peter scratched the back of his neck. “We just talked.”

“About what?” you asked, regretting it soon after. You hadn’t wanted to ask, but it slipped out.

“She’s happy to talk to someone,” Peter said, his ears turning pink. “Her mom died in the fire last month, and it’s a lot to get used to. She’s so…”

“Resilient?” Ned finished.

“Yeah, but nice too,” Peter said, glancing back at Kimberly. “And p...ositive.”

You saw her stand up once more to throw away her trash, flashing Peter a shy smile. And, when Peter had turned his back, she met eyes with you. Kimberly looked at you like she was watching an animal eat its own throw up. That’s exactly how disgusting you felt too. Her usually kind dark brown eyes shone with cold blooded murder.

“Hey, d’you guys already have Mrs. Keilman’s class?” Peter asked, sorting through his notes. You snapped out of your trance, happily taking the chance to look away from Kimberly.

“I had her second peri-”

Your phone dinged, and you scrambled to unlock it when you saw it was your mum. It was a short text: “Don’t go to Peter’s house after school.” Before you could reply, she sent another one. “Come straight home before 5. Or I’ll leave anyway.”

“Shit,” you muttered, typing out a quick “ok”. Peter, who’d been reading over your shoulder, pretended he was minding his own business. You were too tired to tell him off.

“So what’s your mom gotta say?” MJ asked, actually looking up from her book.

“She uh- she says I can’t go to Ned’s after school,” you said, playing with your food to avoid meeting her scrutinizing gaze. “She’s probably staying at the company over the weekend.”

“You can’t come over for movie night?” Ned asked dejectedly. “But we rented _Back to the Future_. Peter was going to bring popcorn.”

You put on a grin and patted his back. “It’s fine Ned. Michelle will be happy to take my place, won’t you Mickey?”

“Wh- _excuse_ me-” MJ stuttered, probably for the first time since you’d met her. She suddenly looked very flustered, a general reaction to you calling her Mickey. “F-first of all, _don’t_ call me that. Second-”

“She’d _love_ to go Ned,” you cut her off.

 

* * *

 

 

Your mother set down her wine glass and stared at you through half lidded, unimpressed eyes. This happened often, the mother/daughter staring competitions, testing who would crack first. Your ears and neck felt hot, and when she raised an eyebrow, you looked away. She always won.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner,” you said, avoiding looking at her. You sounded pouty, like the child she thought you were. “What am I supposed to do for two months? How am I going to buy food? Is this even legal?”

“It’s legal unless you decide to tell the authorities,” your mother said cooly. “Which you won’t. You’re sixteen now, old enough to make your own decisions instead of following me like a sheep. When I was sixteen-”

“You were already starting your college education, I know.”

Your mother picked the glass up again, taking a bored sip as you continued what she considered a childish rant. “Mum, I’m not even mad ‘cause you’re leaving- I’m _pissed_ ‘cause you supposedly forgot to tell me.”

“Watch your language,” was her only reply.

“ _What-_ ” you snapped. “I’m allowed to stay at home alone for two months but I’m not allowed to curse? That’s some backwards logic right there-”

She stood up suddenly, nearly knocking the chair over in the process. Maybe it was an adult thing, but she had always been able to silence you with her glare. Add the fact that she was a smidge taller than you, assuring her win in this intimidation game. You noticed that suitcases were already laid out on the leather couch.

“I am only doing this because the company called me a few days ago, _very_ short notice, mind you,” she huffed. “And they need me to be there, since Kacy proved to be an incapable-”

Your mother’s nose twitched. “I’ll leave you some money. Tell Peter’s aunt if you’d like, maybe she’ll help you with groceries and such. Don’t sit around being useless like you normally do.”

Having finished off her glass, she went to put it in the sink, once again ignoring your existence. That tended to happen when you disappointed mother, and it made you shake with anger. As soon as the wine glass left her hand-

It exploded, and your mother shrieked like a wild pig.

Shards flew and scattered, thankfully staying mostly in the sink. You realized you’d been glaring at the glass and quickly looked away, still frowning.

“How the _hell?_ ” your mother breathed, hesitantly approaching the sink. She picked up a shard of glass and held it between her thumb and pointer finger, as if examining it would explain why the glass exploded. _I did that. I didn’t even touch it!_

“Have fun on your trip,” you murmured, pushing past her to get to your bedroom. She grabbed your arm and forcefully kept you in place.

“I’m doing this to provide for us,” she growled lowly, trying to be reassuring but only scaring you more. “I’m doing this for you. You know I love you, _right?_ ”

She put no emotion besides anger in her words. You wanted to scream “no” and run, but every second you stayed quiet her nails dug further into your bicep, and you croaked out a “yes”. She threw your arm away. “Good. You’ll finish packing for me, won’t you? Fold the dresses neatly or they’ll-”

A low his fell from your lips and you ran down the hallway, cursing under your breath. She made no attempt to follow you, but yelled “fucking brat” as you slammed your door shut and locked it. With half a mind to fall on the bed and scream into a pillow, you instead decided to do something. Talk to someone, maybe. Still face down against the mattress, you blindly grabbed around for your phone and propped yourself up on your elbow to dial Peter.

“Hey, this is Peter. Uh, Parker. Shit, I messed up- May! How do I delete thi-”

You breathed a laugh, quiet just in case your mum was listening in. Peter never failed to mess up his voicemail. You’d been there when he spent two hours trying to make it perfect, in case Liz ever called. Through the door, you heard your mum loudly zipping up her suitcases and calling a cab. You shoved your head into the pillow and groaned. _Should’ve asked when she was leaving._

You looked through your contacts and clicked May’s before thinking. Yes, dialing your best friend’s aunt’s number might not have been the best idea, but May was an angel. An angel who knew how to responsibly buy food and make out checks. She answered within two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi May,” you greeted.

“(YN)!” she chimed. “Oh god, it’s wonderful to talk to you! How’s everything going?”

“It’s great,” you said lightly, cringing when your mum dropped a suitcase and cursed. Hopefully Aunt May didn’t hear that. “I’m doing alright. Is uh, is Peter home?”

“No. Sorry honey, he’s out with a friend. I could leave a message…?”

“That’s okay,” you refused politely. “Actually- Could I borrow Peter’s old bike? My mum won’t be able to drive me for a few months.”

“Sure, he doesn’t use it anyway. What’s wrong with your mom’s car?”

You bit your lip. “Her license expired. She has to retake the exam and all that. Can I come over and pick it up?”

“Mhmh, I’m home anyway, so…” you heard her briefly lift the phone from her ear. “Wait honey, Peter just got home. Do you want to talk to him?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You practically felt her beam through the phone and call something to Peter. Laughter and feminine giggling sounded through your end. No offence to Peter, but he _never_ had girls over. Never. So who…?

“Sorry honey,” May said, sounding confused and apologetic. “Peter’s busy right now, but you can still come over for the bike. He says he’s with a friend, but I’m positive she’s more than a friend because-” she brought the phone closer to her mouth and whispered into it. “I haven’t seen him look at anyone that way since Liz.”

The heat drained from your face. “M-May, who’s Peter’s friend?”

“Oh, she’s from his science class I think, very quiet by the way. I think her name is Kimberl-”

You chucked your phone across the room. Probably not your best moment, but come on. Of all the people, why, why, why, why why _why why why wHY WHY-_

Breathing in deeply through your nose, you marched over, picked up the phone and hesitantly lifted it to your ear. May was already panicking. “(YN) honey, are you okay? I think something fell-”

“M’fine May,” You answered. “K-knocked over my lamp, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

She didn’t say anything for some time, and you heard her walk further away from Peter and Kimberly laughing. “Honey, is everything alright at home? If your mother’s being difficult again, you can sleep over here for a few days.”

“No, no,” you said quickly. “Mum’s been normal. It’s not that.”

Only after saying that did you realize your mistake. _It’s not that._ You knew May narrowed her eyes when you said that. “What’s wrong…?”

You opened your mouth and were interrupted by a shriek of laughter from Kimberly. If it were possible, you felt May narrow her eyes even more and glance in their direction.

“(YN) sweetness,” She whispered, even more caring than before. “Is it Peter?”

You bit your lip harder, feeling the skin break beneath your teeth. May pretended to be clueless in terms of pop culture and teen emotions, but she understood better than _any_ adult. She knew the answer. “Is this why he didn’t want to talk to you?”

“I don’t know,” You breathed sadly into the phone. “I don’t want to know. May, it’s better to drop it-”

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

 _May, you are too damn smart for anyone else’s good. Stay this way forever._ “N-no. Just some other stuff. College applications, tours and all that.”

“Okay, okay, just tell me one thing,” her voice trembled with poorly concealed excitement. “Oh, I’ve wanted to know for six years- Sorry, sorry, gotta stay on task. Do you… _like_ him?”

For some reason you looked around the room to make sure no one was there, even though the door was locked. What a hard question. Well, not really, but it was impossible to put into words. _Do I like Peter? I mean, he’s opted not to talk to me because Kimberly is there, and I wanna choke him right now… Haha, that’s what she said._ If you did like Peter, did you want to? So far, him being your second biggest secret, you hated it. You’d spend life denying that you were attacked to anyone, even your mother (you being emotionally distant was her fault, probably). The question still stood: _Do I like Peter?_

“I plead the fifth,” you said meekly into the phone. May squeaked the moment it left your lips.

“You have no _idea_ how long I’ve waited,” May said breathlessly, like she were holding in a squeal. “This is so perfect! I mean, I always thought, hoped, even- But _wow_ , that’s amazing!”

“Uh, May?”

“Yes honey?”

“He’s- Peter’s not-” You held the phone away from you and huffed. It seemed physically painful to say “he doesn’t like me”, but it was better to reject yourself before Peter got the chance. The group picture of him, you and Ned was sitting on your bed stand, collecting dust but ever present. You looked away from it. “Peter isn’t with Kimberly…to study. Just putting that out there. And I don’t like him like that, really.”

“Oh-” she gasped, biting her tongue. “Oh, I’m so sorry. She’s not very nice, by the way. Terrible girl. Very rude-”

You could almost imagine how badly she was lying right then. What's Aunt May got to hate about Kimberly? The polite girl with perfect _everything_ who makes her nephew laugh? Aunt May didn't know about that family's...business practices. “May, I know you like her. It’s okay that you like her. Kimberly’s a great person.”

It sort of burned your tongue to say that, but the statement was half true. Kim was nice to everyone, except you. She was kinder, more thoughtful, more tolerant and patient and optimistic. Perfect grades in all her advanced classes, in an already advanced school. Not to mention her flawless skin and shiny hair… May seemed determined to make you feel better. “Y’know, there’s still something about her that I didn’t like.”

You smiled sadly at her attempt at cheering you up. “And what’s that?”

“She isn’t you, sweetness,” May said sincerely. “There’s only one of you.”

You croaked out a laugh at that. “May-”

“I know, I know,” she confessed. “That might have been the corniest thing I’ve ever said, but I mean it. You’re such a wonderful girl, honey. Your mom just doesn’t give you enough credit.”

If this were said in person you might have cried, because even now your throat tightened with emotion. You let out a strangled “thanks May” before your voice got the chance to crack.

“No problem,” she said. “I’ll always be your honorary aunt. And honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Peter will always be your best friend,” May said thoughtfully. Peter and Kimberly’s voices got louder in the background. “But _god help him_ if he hurts you, I swear I’ll-”

You giggled at her antics. “Thank you May. G’night.”

Aunt May grinned happily on her side of the call, feeling careworn but content. “Goodnight (YN).”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sponsored (I wish) but I really recommend getting InteractiveFics. After downloading it you basically set up the application to replace the annoying "(YN)"'s with your actual name. Pretty cool.


	5. I.D.E.C.A.Y.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t get why you like her so much,” Peter said gruffly. “Haven’t you read the New Yo-”
> 
> You interrupted him. “We’ve seen that thing. MJ says it’s bull and I believe her. Don’t you think that Ritter guy sounds a bit biased?”

* * *

 

The weeks were passing too quickly. You’d hoped that Peter would interact even a little, to slow down time like he did when it was just the two of you in his living room, watching old cartoons on a Sunday. Classes with him were the same as classes without him; boring, dreary, etcetera. Peter had little intention of talking with you. Or Ned, apparently, because Ned would follow him everywhere in a desperate attempt to gain his attention. You were alone. It made you guilty, that the mention of Ned’s name caused a bitter pang in your chest. Ned didn’t avoid you like Peter did.

“It’s the most annoying book I’ve ever read,” MJ said, _The Pearl_ by Steinbeck resting on her lap. Peter didn’t look up from his computer, merely humming to signify he was listening. MJ sent Peter a withering look which he’d see if he looked away from the damn computer. MJ turned back to you and shrugged. “I mean, let’s say we ignore the shit descriptions. Kino is such a conceited _prick_. He treats his wife like shit for trying to advise him. Actually, now that I think about it, Juana reminds me of that hero chick who the New York Times likes to bash. They’re both hated on a lot.”

You felt Peter stiffen in his seat and chose to ignore him like he was you. “Okay Michelle I know that you know her name-”

“Yeah, it’s a _stupid_ name-”

“I mean the people started calling her that, so blame them-”

“It’s a makeup brand.”

“-and did you just use John Steinbeck to suddenly shift conversation to Nyx?”

She sniffed daintily, tugging at one of her baby hairs. “And if I did?”

You laughed at her fake nonchalant attitude. “Oh my _god_ Michelle.”

“Right, let’s see what _people_ think,” she roughly shoved Peter’s shoulder, making him release a high pitched yelp that resounded throughout study hall. “Parker, what d’you think about Nyx. She’s cool and all, but the name. It’s dumb.”

“I don’t get why you like her so much,” Peter said gruffly. “Haven’t you read the New Yo-”

You interrupted him. “We’ve seen that thing. MJ says it’s bull and I believe her. Don’t you think that Ritter guy sounds a _bit_ biased?”

“Maybe, but what he writes is true,” Peter said. He focused back on his computer, typing as he talked. “She robbed a store on Fifth Avenue…”

 _I didn’t rob it,_ you thought, deflating slightly. _I STOPPED a robbery, then put most of it back. Stupid cameras caught me with ONE watch and reporters ignore the actual robber completely. AND WHO ROBS VERSACE? Walk a bit and you’ll get to Tiffany and Co.!_

“...and the United Nations Headquarters!” Peter exclaimed, shocking you out of your thoughts.

“No one saw her sneak in,” MJ noted, confused at why Peter was suddenly so against Nyx.

“Wait hold up-” you broke in, feeling your palms become sweaty. “W-what happened at the U.N.?”

“Nyx stole from the U.N.’s library,” Peter explained patiently. “She took something from the historical sciences section. No one knows what it is yet, but they think it’s a record of ancient power sources. Prehistoric relics. What old civilizations worshipped. Supposedly it’s from before people knew what a god was, so it’s kind of a big deal.”

You wiped your hands on your jeans and tore the laptop from his hands before he could protest. Of course, as soon as you started typing “UN” the autosearches read “UN headquarters broken into”, “UN delegates can’t work anymore?”, “UN building in shut down”. You clicked on a random article and sure enough, there were shaky pictures of the glass library, dark blue smoke leaking from its open doors. But it wasn’t your smoke; Nyx hadn't entered the building at all.

“Is there any video?” you asked, praying the squeak in your voice wasn’t audible.

“No,” Peter replied, taking his computer back rather forcefully. “But I’m sure it’s Nyx. I mean, blue smoke? She’s been getting more careless and this was her breaking point, her greatest achievement so far- Or maybe she’s innocent. Dunno, I’ve been watching Shane Dawson.”

 _Shane Dawson made a conspiracy theory about me? Should I be honored or…_ Your fingers gripped the armrests to the point that your knuckles were beginning to sting. That night you’d gone out angry; Mum wasn’t calling back, and her assistant left an unpleasant voicemail. You forgot to buy food after hours of homework and ate at Seven Eleven. Not your most dignified moment. So when your silver wristlet began to vibrate, projecting an image of those suspicious trucks moving out of New Jersey for the first time in weeks-

You flew to their location.

The “mission”, distraction, whatever it was- failed. You felt even worse after, coming back into the empty apartment at 2 a.m.

“Kim doesn’t like her either,” Peter said offhandedly. “Been really quiet about the explosion at Stark Labs, but she says she’ll tell me why soon. She _hates_ talking about Mr. Stark. I just wanna be there for her, y’know? No one deserves to be alone like she was.”

Your insides felt like liquid nitrogen, so cold they were scorching. “You’re acting like an idiot.”

Peter frowned, his eyes searching yours. “What?”

“I get that you like her, and that's cool, but it’s getting sad,” you deadpanned, drawing your gaze down to the messages poorly carved into the table (even fancy schools had idiots who got bored). “Why’re you so obsessed with her when you won’t even ask her out? S’ not like she’s interested in you.”

MJ’s eyes widened. She hastily picked up _The Pearl_ from her lap and practically shoved her nose into the pages, hiding from the conversation. The words left your mouth a grumbled and bunched together, but Peter heard everything. His gaze on you was steely.

“We’re dating,” he said tonelessly, another blaring warning you missed. “Kim asked me out a month ago.”

“ _Oh,_ ” you managed weakly.

There were several seconds of painfully awkward silence before you snapped, mumbling “It’s not like I’d know that” under your breath. You pouted slightly, probably acting like a complete child but you were mad and he was being difficult.

“W-what do you mean ‘ _you wouldn’t know that’,_ ” Peter mused, throwing his hands up. “I told you last week _._ ”

“ _That’s_ a lie,” you retaliated. “I’ve barely talked to you this month! Sor- _ry_ for not wanting to intrude on your little fantasy when she’s around.”

“Why are you _like_ this?” Peter asked honestly. His normally serene expression turned to a scowl. “The moment I get over Liz- Actually no, you’ve been weird all year!”

“I’ve- I'm not acting weird- and you, that's- don't even have the right to say th-” MJ looked over her book so only her eyes showed and shook her head. You faltered. _Have I been acting differently? Has everyone else noticed?_

“Whatever. Nothing's wrong. It's just puberty or something.”

Peter eyed you wearily, scanning for something. “Good. Awesome. Now could you please be quiet?”

“So you can finish your little article about Nyx?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You’re just salty that Spiderman, everyone's _favorite_ hero used to be friends with her.”

Peter flushed pink. “I’m talking to Kim about it, _not_ writing an article.”

“Bet you’re gushing about how Nyx deserves to be put to death sentence,” you said. “Since you suddenly hate her so much. For no reason.”

“For good reason, but you’re too in love with her to see it. Look, I’m sure Spiderman will catch her soon,” Peter said through gritted teeth. MJ sunk down in her chair, shielding herself from the argument. You didn’t know if anyone was listening in, but you were too angry to care. “And when he does she’ll confess, and this will all be over.”

“Catch her? They’re _partners!_ ”

“D’you- d’you actually Spiderman would be partners with a criminal?”

You wrinkled your nose at him, suppressing a cynical laugh. “Spiderman used to be a criminal! ‘Member when he cut Staten Island Ferry in half?”

Peter seemed pissed off by this, and you wondered very briefly why he idolized Spiderman so much. “He wasn’t a criminal! He helped people!”

Your fists clenched under the table, hearing the light overhead start to buzz, the glass bulb cracking. Magic crackled quietly around your wrists like sparks electricity. “There is no proof that Nyx stole from the U.N.-”

“Well, yes, there is,” Peter pressed. “How can’t you see it? No one else leaves blue smoke besides her! I think Nyx should be sent to jail, _because that’s where criminals go._ ”

 _Jail. That’s not too bad. Jail might have decent food._ “At least you don’t want her killed.”

“Depends,” Peter said airily. “On whether she hurts Kim again.”

He didn’t bother to add “Oh, and you, Ned, Michelle… And May of course. Y’know. My blood relative who I very much love, Aunt May.” Nope, it was just Kimberly. Kimberly, Kimberly, Kimberly. You tried to sympathize with him, really you did, but this young love bullshit was irritating. Besides, your young love wasn’t going too well.

“Psh, so what would you do?” you asked. “Go to your damn internship and tattle to Spiderman? Have _him_ hunt Nyx?”

There was a sense of disbelief in your words, but Peter’s gaze remained set. His brown doe eyes gleamed with determination and protectiveness. None of it was aimed at you. _So in other words,_ you thought sourly. _Ouch. That hurts a bit._ Peter dropped the solemn face so quickly you wondered if he ever looked solemn at all. Might have been a figment of your imagination, just trying to get you to be angry with him. He sent you a lopsided, innocent smile that made your blood boil. You didn’t know why, didn’t want to know why, but at this moment he had no right to go back to his cheerful state. Not after saying those things.

You looked back down at your black jeans and picked at a loose seam. The way he looked when he spoke about Kim… The chivalry, warmth and protective nature. Seven years you and him had been best friends, and he never looked that way with you. Not when you were pushed into mulch by a bully in 5th grade, or when you were harassed by 15 people in 7th, or when a girl had the audacity to call you a prude bitch in 9th. (Apparently you were a prude for admitting that you’d never been kissed, but joke’s on her. It’s junior year and you _still_ haven’t been kissed, so… That’s depressing.)

Your thoughts strayed, but there was one common observation: Peter liked you, cared for you, grew up with you, but he’d never look at you with as much adoration as he did to Kimberly. _But it’s worse than that, isn’t it_ ... You dug your fingers into your thighs. _No matter how close I am with Peter, he’d always choose her over me._ Fueled by venomous thoughts, you spoke before thinking.

“God, why do you hate her so much?” you huffed. “It’s like she’s the one who killed your parents.”

MJ almost fell over as she shot up, grabbed everything she could and sped out of study hall. Your eyes widened at your own statement, hearts starting to beat frantically. Peter’s head jerked up, staring at you. You didn’t want to describe what flashed across his face, didn’t want to keep looking at him. You wished you could slap yourself so hard it reversed time and that slip up never happened but your gaze was locked with Peter’s, and neither party was backing down.

When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Take it back.”

You didn’t blink. “Peter.”

“Take. It. Back.”

“It slipped out, I'm sorry,” you breathed, hating the way your words sounded; like a strangled, dehydrated cat. “Peter, it slipped-”

He only looked at you, jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscles twitching. Your eyes began to itch, feeling the pressured need to cry build up beneath your eyeballs. “Peter I said I-”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

That single, short sentence was enough to make you clamp your mouth shut. It was two words dripping poison onto your body, melting skin wherever drops landed. He stood up, shoved his books into his backpack so fast his hands seemed to blur and before you could even move he disappeared through the door, heavy footsteps slowly fading away.

You were holding your knees, which were exposed because of the ripped jeans, hands shaking and staring at at the door through which he left. If the entirety of study hall knew you just fucked up with your best friend, you didn’t care. Judging from how quiet everyone suddenly was, they all knew. But you stayed perfectly still, shoulders tense, clutching your knees until your nails made little semi-circles appear. Soon, they broke the skin and tiny dots of blood surfaced, and you still didn’t move. Your chest moved in fast, small movements, like an animal that was being hunted.

When the embarrassment of your actions finally reached your fogged up mind, you frantically shoveled books into a backpack and fled the room with your head down. A few drops of red ran down from the aching cuts in your exposed knees and disappeared into the black fabric of your jeans. They hurt. You deserved it.

_I messed up, I messed up, I messed up, I messed up, I m-_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapter titles are songs and no, IDECAY is not an actual song its an acronym. Why? Eh... I'm bored.


	6. Stick Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try once more to apologize to Peter (not successfully) and Spiderman thinks it’s a good idea to bring up your family

* * *

 

“No Michelle, I  _ can’t  _ have her drive me to the conference,” you argued, mashing the phone into your ear. “‘Cause she’s busy, alright? I’ll have to miss this one.”

“Absolutely not,” MJ clipped back. “You already missed the last two and morale is low. Liz  _ specifically _ told us morale was important before she left, I know she’s right and so do you. It’s my responsibility to-”

“To keep the team busy and happy,” you repeated for the millionth time, getting up to dump a small mountain of candy wrappers into the trash. “Yeah, yeah I  _ know.  _ Can you keep your voice down please?  _ Please? _ ”

She clicked her tongue. “Finally got yourself in detention?”

“Of course not!” you snapped, plopping back down. “Like I’d ever let myself get detention. I’ve gotta stay after to do some extra credit work for English, since my last essay was ‘bad’. ”

You could almost hear her squint through the phone. “What do you mean by...bad?”

“I don’t know,” you said miserably, staring at the folders of homework that were beginning to pile up on your desk. You rubbed the bridge of your nose before speaking. “I’m usually good at this shit, now I’m not. Fuckin’ go figure, I guess.”

“So that’s a definite no for decathlon?” MJ asked. 

You hummed in response, ducking when an iPhone was thrown across the room like a football. A group of guys in the corner guffawed, but one of them had the decency to mouth “sorry”. You rolled your eyes. “I wish I could but...”

“But your mom’s too busy to drive you,” she finished dejectedly, then sighed. “Why’s she been so damn stubborn lately? Is she giving you a hard time again? My parents could talk to her if that would help.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, no it’s fine. I can go to the next one, she promised.”

MJ was skeptical, you could tell. “Mhmm, why don’t you ride the bus with the team? It only costs a few bucks.”

“I’m  _ busy _ MJ,” you deflected. Which wasn’t a total lie. The stack of due-tomorrow papers and “small” projects was growing higher with each class. And then there was the ever looming threat posed by some group of arms dealers talking to an alien (a fucking alien! Like Thor!) So yeah, you were busy. “If I get all this done by the end of the month I promise I’ll go to the next meeting.”

Michelle was quiet for a bit. “Okay. But if you leave me like Parker did last year-”

“By all means, you can kill me yourself,” two sets of footsteps entered Ms. Baker’s crowded room. You glanced up out of boredom in time to see a brunette boy march back out of the classroom and slam the door behind him. Your heartbeat spiked sharply, blocking out what MJ was saying over the phone.  _ Oh no… _

“MJ I’ve got to be quiet now,” you whispered urgently.

“What? Why? (YN)-”

You hung up.

Kimberly shrugged at Peter’s antics and strode the the empty teacher’s desk as if she hadn’t seen you. You kept your eyes glued to the desk as she rummaged through Ms. Baker’s files. Reaching with shaky hands for a pencil, you slid a random paper in front of you and read it all the way through, not retaining a word. Then you read it again. And again, until the soft clink of her flats on the floor started again. She was leaving.

“Hey.”

You hadn’t realized how strong your grip was on the pencil…

Until it snapped in half.

“Wuh-” you said stupidly. “Whah, uh. Hi. Hello.”

Kimberly cocked her head at the desk next to you. “Can I sit down?”

“Uh…” you dropped the snapped mechanical pencil into your backpack, fully aware of the giant voice crack you just experienced. Like, a “Ned talking to cute girl” level voice crack.  _ And dammit,  _ you cursed at yourself.  _ That pencil was expensive.  _ “S-sure.”

“I was going to study here with Peter, but he pretty much refused to come inside,” your gaze darted away from her, only making her eyebrows rise farther up her forehead. “Seemed kind of mad. You guys have a fight?”

You made the mistake of looking her in the face. “No.”

“Really?” she flicked a decorative cactus pin on her bag. “So why’s he so mad at you?”

You opened your mouth and closed it, repeated this at least three times. Her eyes shone with the same repressed anger as they had when she identified you while on patrol with Spidey. That time she _ shot  _ at you? Remember  _ that  _ fun night? Anyway, she managed to give you a deadpan stare all while adjusting the straps on her bag. “Reasons,” you answered simply.

“Okay, don’t lie,” she leaned in with a knowing look. “Something happened, and he’s been hanging out with me a ton more than you lately. Did you hurt him?”

You couldn’t look at her without imagining a loaded gun pointed at your skull so  _ how was she talking so casually? _ “I...don’t have to tell you. I’m not required to tell you. Does that answer the question?”

“Nope,” she said calmly. “It makes you look like an asshole, though.”

“No offense, really, but it’s none of your business-and I don’t know what he’s told you and-”

“A lot,” Kim said. Your eye twitched.

“Well t-then you know what I d-did,” you’d begun to stutter. Badly. “So how m-much was he snitched about?”

She shrugged her shoulders and gave her (Korean? You couldn’t see from your angle) flag pin one final flick. “Well, not  _ that  _ much. You’re sarcastic, or so I’m told. Nice enough, but you got very violent when that one guy bullied Michelle,” she looked up from her bag. “Oh- you’re nosy.”

Your leg bounced up and down as if it were spasming. So your best friend was talking ‘bout you behind your back. Well, part of your brain blamed him, and the other part still replayed the “dead parent” exchange every night before bed. And yes, you didn’t get much sleep these days. “Peter said I’m nosy?”

“No, but you can’t seem to get off my family’s ass,” Kim scoffed. “So I just assumed. What- am I wrong?”

“Y-yes,” you cleared your throat. “Yes. Very wrong. Sorry, but I’m not the one who’s smuggling weapons.”

She glanced around her to make sure no one heard and looked back at you with stony brown eyes. The group of idiots in the corner were still loud enough to mask the conversation, a herd of girls gathered around their friend were giggling. Ms. Baker still wasn’t back. 

“I don’t think you understand my circumstances,  _ hon _ ,” she hissed, a tense smile stretching over her features. You saw a single boy in the corner, peering at the two of you from behind a small book but he’d looked away when Kim smiled. “You think Midtown is  _ cheap? _ Think my dad  _ wants _ to endanger our family for the freaks who buy his shit?”

You shook you head frantically. “I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t dangerous. The guy you’re selling them to-”

“Pays well,” she clipped. “Doesn’t matter who he is or where he’s from- he pays us  _ generously _ . In the long run it’s more than we could ever give back.”

“You have no idea what he’ll do with them,” you whispered fiercely. “He disappears after you talk to him and that’s just okay to you? That man-”

She laughed bitterly. “He’s not a man and you know that.”

“He- he’s…” your breathing was becoming laboured, an oncoming panic attack. “And you don’t see anything, I don’t know-  _ wrong _ with that? What th-”

Kim latched onto your wrist, making the wind leave your lungs. “Did you think it was wrong to leave my mother in that building?” she asked quietly, scraping her nails down your skin. Hot tears brimmed your lower lashes and you clenched your teeth to stop the screech that bubbled in your throat.  _ Thum-thump...thum-thump... _

Still you nodded; yes.

“So you’re admitting it was a mistake on your part?” she smiled kindly. Her thumb delicately traced the protruding veins on your wrist ( _ thum-thump!)  _ Once again, you nodded hastily. What else were you to do, scream? And for who? The jackasses who threw someone’s phone? The bitches who were currently showing off their hickeys? The single, lonely, creepy guy and his copy of  _ Animal Farm _ ?

“But you still left her there,” she said sadly. The nail of her thumb pressed dangerously on your central vein, the heartbeat growing weaker and somehow louder in your head. A nauseating, throbbing pulse echoed in your ears.  _ Thum-thump! _

She dug her nail into the vein.  _ Thum-thump! Thum-thump! Thum-thump! _

“I wish it was different,” Kim murmured. You were startled by her suddenly glassy orbs. “If you’d saved her, maybe dad would’ve stopped selling those things. He used to only sell guns, y’know? But that was never enough money...”

_ Thum-thump! Thum-thu-- _

She threw your aching arm away. “Whoops- forgot about that.”

You cradled the wrist close to your chest, watching her with feral eyes and ragged breathing. Kim had the gall to pat your other arm sympathetically, ignoring the way your body flinched. “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” she asked, blinking innocently. 

“What if I d-do?” 

You’d rather drown in the Hudson than hear her answer that.

Thankfully, she never does. Kimberly’s full lips curled up in a half smile, half snarl. You don’t get an reply, though you don’t really need one. Truth was, if this “buyer” was as powerful as he seemed, there was no limit to what he could do. Kim knew this all too well. She stood up, steadied her bag on one shoulder and practically bounced away.

Her flats clicked merrily with each step.

* * *

 


	7. My Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try once more to apologize to Peter (not successfully) and Spiderman thinks it’s a good idea to bring up your family. (who tf brings up family all cool and casual like??? we don't all nice things like give her a -- b r e a k -- ok? bitch was already depressed and now this,,, thnx a lot spidey)

* * *

_ "Hi Peter. Sorry I got in a completely meaningless fight with you and brought up the death of your parents. We're cool, right?” _

Yeah, that wasn't going to pass. You stared with half bleary eyes at the phone in your hand, a paragraph long text message highlighted in blue, about to be deleted. This was the fifth…sixth? Sixth attempt at an astounding apology that would make Peter so emotional he’d forgive you in an instant. So far, everything you wrote turned out to be shit. Every text was too long, too pathetic and clingy. And it became apparent to you that as of recently, your texts to Peter had to be perfect. Even before the fight you’d been double checking the spelling, triple checking to make sure there weren’t too many emojis. 

Is adding a period too formal? Too strict? And yes, you knew very well why you were acting like this but refused to say it out loud. 

After huffing through your nose, you pressed delete and half an hour’s worth of typing was gone. The sound of heavy boats cutting through water was really helping right then, to calm nerves and such. You closed your eyes and dangled your feet over the side of the warehouse. The tracker you'd put on one of Kim’s “henchmen” (could a high school student really have henchmen?) had been still for two hours now, and the video you could get on your phone was of the spider-tracker crawling up and down a man’s pant leg. The doors were locked. The live feed was silent, save for the man pacing; he was alone. 

A boat horn rang through the night air, startling a cat that was sleeping on the fence down below.  _ That reminds me, _ you thought.  _ Haven't gone to Delmar’s in a while. _ Your phone screen’s light illuminated your face, the blank text box ever present.  _ Okay, go simple. Don't be a dumbass. Straight to the point. I've got this. _ Your fingers moved nimbly by themselves, typing out the shortest thing you could think of. 

“‘I'm sorry’ isn't enough right now, I know. See you at school.”

You hit send and watched the text until “delivered” appeared in small blue letters right below. Was that too up front? Probably. Was he going to forgive you because of one text, no matter how long? No. Never. You looked up at the stars and sighed, feeling a cold gust of wind flow past your cheeks. With the mask off, details about your surroundings were more clear. Everything was in high definition, but that made it hard to focus. Spidey was right; your senses were dialed up to 11, too much input and not enough capacity for storage. 

Looking back down at your phone, you saw that “delivered” had changed to “read”. 

Peter already saw what you wrote. He didn't bother to reply. 

You made a high pitched scream at the back of your throat, frustration and shame warming your cold cheeks.  _ I’m an idiot! Of course he still hates me- I brought up his fucking dead parents! I was the first person he opened up to after they died, and now I’ve gone and fucked up.  _ You kicked your legs over the side of the warehouse and laid spread angled on the tin roof. This was the warehouse you’d been visiting for a few days now. Almost a week. It was only half a mile from where you saw the tall grey alien talk to Kimberly and her bosses. Sure, you should be more careful than texting while hunting down dangerous criminals, but after a few days of spending nightly hours on the roof, it had grown boring. Tame. The giant garage door was locked and from a tiny crack in the wall you only saw a giant, empty warehouse. 

You were close to giving up when a car pulled into the alley on your side of the roof. A boy stepped out, loudly smacking on gum and locking the car equally loudly. Still laying down, you peeked over the side of the roof. He, a younger kid, by the sound of it, was with a girl. She talked quickly, nervously. A lazy grin slid across your face; Kimberly was never good at whispering.

“Spit that shit out before I make you,” she finally snapped. You heard a “whooey” sound and a wet splat, meaning he did as told.

“It calms me down,” he explained serenely, as if appeasing a toddler. “Maybe you should try it, since you’re so worked up. Maybe you’ll stop annoying dad all the time.”

The garage doors slid up, rumbling so badly you felt the tremors in your entire body. Their voices faded and before they did, you heard Kimberly retort: “Dad likes me better anyway.”  _ So that’s Kim’s brother? The three menacing, scary hooded figures that talked to the grey alien were a...family? SERIOUSLY?  _

“Hey,” a voice hissed, poking your shoulder. On reflex, you blindly grabbed (an...arm?) and threw them away, fully prepared to then launch yourself at the target because if they wanted to fight then-

“Ow, what the fuck!” Spidey gasped, holding his bruised bicep. 

“ _ Shit- _ don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried. 

“Why-” he seemed to wince, rubbing the sore spot. “D’you  _ always _ try an’ kill people when they do that?!”

“Well I was kind of in the middle of something!” you argued, glancing nervously over the ledge at the half dozen parked vans. “Friggin’ intense bad guy shit was happening and you just sneak up on me outta nowhere…”

“What’s intense is your grip,” Spidey murmured, rolling his shoulder. “Is that ‘cause of your powers or are you a gym rat?”

“Okay Mr. ‘I Can Stop A Moving Train’,” you said, putting a hand on your hip. "Not everyone knows how to control their strength.”

He snickered and plopped down on the ledge of the warehouse. “No seriously. Powers or its always been like that?”

“Uh…” you sat down next to him. “Powers I think. Dunno, I’ve always been able to slap a bitch who needs it.” 

Spidey pouted under his mask. “Aww, am I your bitch?”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from cackling. “Say that again, but  _ slowly _ .”

“Am I y- oh,” he laughed awkwardly. “Whoops. Welp, guess this partnership is terminated. Nice knowing you, I’m going to go kill myself now.”

The boisterous laugh finally escaped your lips, all thoughts of Peter leaving your conscious. Spiderman made a gun with his hand, held it to the side of his head and jerked his thumb back as if pulling a trigger. “Now that my sidekick knows I’m an idiot, might as well drop being Spiderman, right?”

“Sidekick?” you managed to scoff between giggles. “ _ Please. _ I’m the dominant one in this relationship.”

“Kinky.”

The tips of your ears suddenly felt hot. “S-shut up!”

Spidey laughed when you shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes under your mask. “That’s not what I meant, dammit! I’m like the biggest virgin you’ll ever- Stop  _ laughing! _ ”

He kept doing so but somehow, you felt lighter than you’d been a few minutes ago. Free. Like a kid. Which was odd, because this was a nightly patrol and Kim was right below- “We need to get down there.”

The lighthearted aura was sucked from the air. “ _ Huh? _ ”

“I’m supposed to be down there! I was going to sneak in and- and now we’re talking about bullshit when we could be  _ doing _ something!”

“Oh- _ kay _ crazy,” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “I called the police, they’ll be here in less than an hour. All we have to do is make sure they don’t leave the premises.” 

You frowned inside your mask, thankful that it didn’t change to show facial expressions like his did. How could this superhero, especially one who was known to deviate from law enforcement, sit here and  _ wait _ for people to do work for him? People who were defenseless unless they were armed with a weapon, no less. You impatiently tapped a gloved hand on your thigh, ears perking up to the muffled arguing that traveled up a nearby air vent. 

“Go patrol the city,” Spidey suggested, tapping commands into the sensors on his wrist. “Better that than sitting here and doing nothing. I’ll call you if I need backu-”

“No way,” you said sternly. “I’m gonna kick their asses myself if they try to escape. Not leaving.”

“Don’t- you shouldn’t  _ hurt _ them, they’re just doing their job,” he said finally, after at least five minutes of thick silence. 

“They’re  _ dangerous- _ ”

“So are you,” he fired back. You drew away, fingers tightening around the ledge in surprise. He must have noticed the outburst was uncalled for because he released a shaky sigh. “So am I. We’re dangerous, you know that- right? Only difference between us and them is that we aren’t desperate enough to go into that line of work.”

You bristled at that. “That’s a damn big difference.”

“Not a hard line to cross, though,” Spidey noted, ceasing his tapping of instructions. “People do shit when they’re desperate. For money, for safety, for family…” he looked away from the skyline horizon and turned to you. “I’d do a lot for my family, more than I’d ever tell you about.”

“ _ Well, _ ” you said frankly. “That hurts a bit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve been getting more...reckless,” he said, “The whole fiasco with the United Nations-”

“I told you that wasn’t me!”

Peter said the same thing, about the United Nations. About the little epic failure you achieved in one night. He was wrong, though; you were framed, it was synthetic smoke. Who was trying to make you Public Enemy #1? You didn’t know and it was killing you.  _ Maybe I should tell Peter about this superhero gig. He could help me deal with it, I guess,  _ you considered the notion.  _ That’d be a huge chip off my shoulder. Too bad I was a complete dumbass and ruined the friendship with one stupid fucking offhand comment- _

“Okay, say it wasn’t,” Spidey said patiently, drawing you out of the stream of furious thoughts. “But you stole from that jewelry store a while back.”

“I stopped a potential robbery!” you said defiantly. “He was an idiot for trying to steal at Fifth Avenue- who the hell does that? A-and I only took one little diamond-”

“ _ ‘One little diamond’ _ ?!”

“Whaaat?” you whined, looking down at your dangling legs guiltily. 

“What would your parents think?” Spidey asked, probably expecting you to open up more. Probably raising an eyebrow under his stupid mask. Good luck with that, bud. 

“Okay, okay,” you immediately dropped the playful tone. “I get it, that was bad. Let’s move on please.” 

“No, c’mon,” he pressed. “Everyone thinks about their family when they do bad shit.” 

Your lips were pursed in a thin line and you felt your head tilt in a small nod. He would get no other answer right away, but he sure did try. “Do you...not have a family?”

No response. “Shit, I’m sorry. I assumed-”

“I have a family,” you forced out, and it sounded so disgusting to say that you prayed you’d never have to say it again. Spiderman did this thing where he leaned forward and turned his upper body towards you, cocking his head down and waiting for a continuation. You huffed.

“It’s a complicated situation, webhead,” you lifted one leg onto the roof and pulled your knee to your chest, letting the other one dangle. “S’not a big family anyway, so at least it’s not completely out of hand.”

“Divorce?”

You shook your head. “Single mom.”

“Oh,” his hand patted your shoulder, a surprisingly welcomed gesture. “My best friend’s got a single mom. They’re not very close, though.”

“Good for them,” you said flatly. 

Spiderman shifted awkwardly. “So maybe don’t...steal jewelry? For your mom’s sake?”

He looked at you for a reaction, even a tiny nod, and got none. “You really hate talking about her, don’t you?”

“It’s not- ugh, I dunno,” you hung your head lower. “If I talk about my mum for another second I’d probably start on a whole rant ‘bout how she utterly  _ failed  _ as a parent and, despite technically being there my entire childhood, is  _ constantly _ ignoring her responsibilities-”

You opened your mouth to continue but choked on the words, realizing that the conversation was 90% you oversharing. “Anyway she’s an okay mum or whatever. Hasn’t done anything that bad. Very average.”

How else were you to phrase it to someone you met so recently? “Very average” was giving her way too much credit but it wasn’t abuse...anymore. In the past two years she’d gone from hitting you for being a disappointment to not caring at all. She didn’t yell every week, she didn’t slap you upside the head or box your ears. She tried to do Mother/Daughter nights but they always ended with her screaming about kicking you out while you wiped away tears. Frankly it wasn’t “caring” as much as it was random fits of rage but- it wasn’t physical anymore. You didn’t have hand shaped bruises anymore, nor split lips. You still had to be careful around your mum ‘cause hell, who knew if she was having a bad day. Who knew what she’d do  _ if  _ she had a bad day. But despite the bad days...she was still your mum. She always apologized after a week or so, told you she hadn’t meant it. 

Spiderman was nodded slowly. “You’ve...got a lot to say about your mom.”

“Trust me,  _ that _ barely covered my opinion of her,” you grumbled. “But what the hell, right? Not like I know you,” your hands felt clammy and hot from frustration. 

“Don’t look,” you warned him briskly. 

“What?” 

“I need some air, don’t look at me.” Your fingers grasped the bottom of your mask and began to tug up. Chilly night air tingled pleasantly wherever it touched, almost making you sigh out loud. 

Spidey’s neck must have snapped with how quickly he looked away. “Are you  _ crazy _ ?! Why are you taking the mask o-”

“Relax, I’m just lifting it a little,” you bunched the mask up on the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply for the cold, dry New York air. It rattled in your lungs yet you took another calming breath, glancing at Spiderman.

He was covering his eyes.

“You don’t have to-” your quiet laugh got his attention. “Don’t cover your eyes, dude. Jus’ don’t look at my face.”

“Uh, yeah,” he hesitantly took the hand from his face. “Gotta be cautious thought.”

“S’ just my mouth, Spiderboy,” you grinned at his awkward nature. “What- can’t handle seeing a girl’s lips?”

“Yes I have!”

You giggled at his voice crack. “Pretty sure you’ve a bigger virgin than I am.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yeah?” you quirked an eyebrow, knowing he couldn’t see it. “I’m making my ‘I-don’t-believe-you’ face, by the way. Seriously starting to doubt that you’re my age ‘cause…you act like a twelve year old. No offense.”

“I’m sixteen!” he defended and honestly, seeing him angrily wave his arms around without facing you was  _ hilarious _ . And the suit sounded like it was frantically trying to adjust the voice modifier to his high pitched rambling. “I swear I’m sixteen, it’s fucking puberty-”

You put a hand up to silence him, smiling maniacally before pulling your mask over your chin again. “I kid, I kid. Mask is back down.”

If this were a cartoon there would have been steam shooting from his ears. Not like, angry steam. Flustered steam. Or maybe both. Either way, it was funny.

“I  _ hate _ you,” he groused. “And my voice  _ had _ to crack! God, that’s worse than when we met!”

A fresh bout of laughter erupted from thinking of that memory alone. Your cackles, once again muffled by the shitty mask, had to be stifled by biting down on the inside of your cheek. 

“Pfft, ha! Oh-” you gagged on the words. “Oh that was fucking  _ amazing! _ D’you- d’you remember when the kid was running-”

“ _ Please _ no.”

“And you tried to grab him-”

“No, no you said you wouldn’t bring that up!”

“And he threw the bag of quarters at your dick! Ha!”

Spiderman groaned in agony. “Take the mask off so I can deck you.”

“Come at me scrub, I’m-  _ shit _ ,” your metal wristlet beeped, flashing the word “Urgent” in neon blue block letters. “Ah, damn. There’s a robbery near my place, gotta check that out,” owners of a small Korean place near Delmar’s are being threatened at gunpoint. You’d been there with Peter and Ned few times, and that made thought you somber again. “That’ll be a few minutes to get to.”

“You’ve gotta stop bugging the cameras,” Spidey said disapprovingly. 

“Well some of us don’t have fancy Super-Conducting 4.2 Tera whatever to help us,” you answered snidely, projecting a small image of the restaurant's security camera view. “Fuck, you’ve got patrol too. Who’s gonna guard this shit?”

“I can stay here,” Spidey offered quickly.  _ He’s not asking to swing me there? That’s...weird. Last time I checked he was the biggest Mom Friend I’ve ever met. _

You paused at the ledge of the warehouse, eyes moving from the him to Queens in the distance and back again. “Are you sure?”

“Go!” he urged, shooing you away. “I can handle one night without a partner. S’ your chance to prove that you’re not evil.” You scoffed, wheeled around and raised your middle finger, falling backwards off the ledge with your arms spread like wings. Your body dissolving into a column of smoke seconds before hitting the ground. Spiderman didn’t call for backup that night and the ordeal was stopped with a few “magic tricks” of yours. The robber was easy to take down as he was  _ stupidly _ high and though you disappeared before they could say anything, you saw them talking to local reporters with relieved expressions. You doubted the old couple would say anything bad, but being tentative never hurt anyone. Hopefully Spidey’s call sent a few officers to the warehouse. 

Funny thing was: you hadn’t seen any police cars heading to the warehouse as you flew Queens. Not a single one.

* * *

 


End file.
